Author: scottpetersen

Lawyer, guitar player (the Blues), magic man, chess player, father, grandfather, husband, linguist, etc.

I Am One of the Donkeys Here

On By scottpetersenIn Chinese languageLeave a comment

A long time ago, I studied a bit of Mandarin Chinese. Then about 7 years ago, I decided to get back in the game with a 3 month “immersion” course through Berlitz.  My superb tutor – Weixin – continued on — coming to my office each week for several years.  And we would chat for an hour in Chinese.

Now Chinese is not as easy as it looks. It can be a bit difficult. There are four different tonal sounds so that each word can be pronounced four different ways — with perhaps a dozen entirely different meanings depending on context.  The only word resembling English is the word “mama” which will only get you so far. . . .

After my immersion course and a few months of tutoring, I had the occasion to host a group of Chinese judges and lawyers at my Firm.  I thought to myself I will wow them with my burgeoning knowledge of Chinese and so I took them on a tour of our offices and brought them into our Board room for a meeting.   At one point in my presentation, I noticed some polite laughter which I thought might be a result of my excellent elocution or my Shanghai accent.  However, as they were leaving, their translator pulled me aside and suggested that when I tried to say “I am one of the partners at Holland & Knight,” I had actually said “I am one of the donkeys at Holland & Knight.”  You should say lu shi — not lu zi. 

I have a feeling that my contratemps was one of the highlights of their trip such that the story will be retold with smiles and great enthusiasm.  Probably for years (sigh) . . . . .   

Blackberries and Cell Phones and IPhones – Oh My!

On By scottpetersenIn Blackberries and cell phones and I phones oh my!Leave a comment

Seated in a restaurant a few months ago was a mother, father and two children. Mom and dad were busy checking emails and thumbing their IPhones, one of the kids sat there with earphones plugged in, mouth open, staring into space. The other child sat there.  Alone. looking around.  Nibbling a piece of bread.  Ignored.

I have been guilty of sneaking a peak at my Blackberry while having dinner — especially when I feel the “hum” of an arriving message. But I’m the first to admit it is rude.  It is essentially telling your dinner companion(s) that there is something more important than their company.  In some places, cell phones, Iphones and Blackberries are taboo.  That’s probably the way it should be.   Especially when families are together.  These devices are habit-forming and can be noxious to those with us — and around us.  

As I walk from the train station to my office in downtown Chicago, many people chat animatedly on their cell phones.  Others are busily texting.  And many are just “plugged in.”  Listening to something.  It’s interesting to see two or three people walking together — each with their own electronic device.  Intent.  Tuned out.  Ships passing in the daytime. . . .

Lately, I try to resist the temptation.  I feel noble.  Then again, I have a Blackberry and Donna has an IPhone.   Grrrrrrrr . . . . . . Excuse me. . .  “Donna?  Where’s your IPhone?  I’m playing Scrabble. . . . ”   

The Old Neighborhood. . . .

On By scottpetersenIn Chicago bungalow, The old neighborhoodLeave a comment

My parents lived in a 2 room attic in the 6000 block of West Byron Street in Chicago from 1942 until 1950.  Typical Chicago bungalow.  I was born in 1947 and lived in that attic for my first three years.  I remember the place with some clarity.  My mother (who is 90) gave me some old photographs taken in this location.  Last weekend, I paid a visit — to the old neighborhood.  I slowed outside the small brick home.  Gazed.  Memories.   Took a picture.  Then drove around back to see the little porch and the stairway (the only entrance) going up.  There were two guys working in the garage behind the house.  I slowed again.  Looked.  The two guys looked at me.  “I used to live there.  In the attic.  Up there.”  I pointed.  “The bathroom’s on the right.  Bedroom on the street and the kitchen right there.”  They looked at each other.  “You want to go in?”  One asked.  “Sure!” I responded. 

I had tears in my eyes as I climbed the back stairs.  And went in.  The place was neat — and pretty much as I remembered it.  Slanted ceiling.  There was the lone street window where my mother would hold me and I would wave at a little boy across the street.  Bathroom and little kitchen.    The two gents who were from Mexico (two brothers one of whom lived in the attic) could not have been nicer.   No hurry.   What a trip!  I sent them copies of pictures of their home — from 65 years ago.  Though between us, I still think of it as “my home.” 

Election Day

On By scottpetersenIn Election DayLeave a comment

It used to be that Election Day was Election Day. One special Tuesday every two years when America would cast its ballots for those seeking national political office.  From the dawn’s early light until 7:00 p.m.   Lines were long and everyone waited.  And waited.   And voted.  “Absentee Voting” was a rarity — reserved only for those who planned to be away, those who were ill or those with a good excuse for not voting on Election Day.   

Today however, “Election Day” has morphed into a two week spree of voting.  Anyone can show up and vote.  Every day is Election Day.  So I showed up at one of the dozens of polling places open for “early voting.”  Despite the objection by some over the need to show an I.D. to vote on Election Day, I was required to show an I.D. “Do you have some proof of identification?” the man asked. “Yep.”  Maybe I look a little shifty. . . .

I’m not sure why “Election Day” has turned into an “Election Fortnight.” It’s probably a good thing.  Gets more people to the polls.  Perhaps one day elections will be held year round (“I’ll show him a thing or two. . . . I’m going to vote tomorrow“).  Maybe special interest groups could declare their discontent with this or that official, encourage a crush of voting in mid-July and oust the character by Labor Day.  The House of Representatives would have new members showing up on a daily basis.  After all, it’s not hard to get groups of registered voters together.  In Chicago, the cemeteries are full of them. . . .

Taxes

On By scottpetersenIn Tax policy, TaxesLeave a comment

If a person has $500,000 in  annual income, how much should he/she pay in taxes?  Careful.  Think about this question before reading on.

If 100% of the amount is given to charity, then the answer might be zero. There is no taxable income.  If  the entire amount results from interest on municipal bonds (bonds to fund government projects, hospitals, schools), the answer may also be . . . . zero.   Income on municipal bonds is tax-free.  If the income is derived entirely from long-term capital gain, the answer is no more than 15% of the total less lawful deductions. If the income is derived from short-term capital gain or salary income, then the answer ranges from 10% to 35% of the total less deductions. 

Thus the answer to the question “how much tax is owed” should require an educated man or woman to respond “tell me more” rather than a numeric shot in the dark (or worse a demand that those with such income must pay a “fair share“).  As a lawyer, it is disconcerting that some people seem to have forgotten that the American tax code is the law of the land and not a “loophole.”   Should it matter how much a person earns in a year and pays in taxes, so long as these metrics are lawfully achieved?    What’s your “take”?      

Streets & Sanitation

On By scottpetersenIn Character, Chicago, Streets & Sanitation1 Comment

For 5 plus years, I was an Assistant States Attorney – Felony Trial Division in Chicago.  My daughter was born in the middle of a really nasty 2 week murder jury trial (for which I am still called back every 3 years to testify in parole hearings against release of the killer).  Donna went into labor at about 2:00 a.m. on a Thursday morning.  I called my friend and partner in the case and said “Charlie – Donna’s having the baby. You’re gonna have to handle things today.” His response “Congrats but be here tomorrow.”   

The next day, I showed up at the office with my arms packed with files and three boxes of cigars.  So I’m in my office passing out cigars, smiling, yabbering, guys wandering in and out when suddenly a large chap appeared at my door.  He was wearing overalls, high rubber boots, thick shirt and a hat.  He leaned against the door frame.  “Is there a Scott Petersen here” he asked.  We all turned.  I raised my hand.  “Yeah.  That’s me.”  “You missin’ anything?” he asked.  I felt pockets.  Jacket.  My checkbook!  It’s gone.  “My checkbook” I said.  He held it up waggling it between two fingers.  “I found it on the street.”    I quickly dipped into my wallet for a twenty.  “Here” – I said taking the checkbook.  “Thank you. I apprec. . . ” “No.  That’s okay,”  he held up his hand.  “I’m with Streets and Sanitation.  I want you guys to know — we have a lot of good people in Streets and Sanitation.”    I then said “My wife just had a baby.  Can I offer you some cigars?”  He looked at the open box.  “That I will take.”  He grabbed a large handful and disappeared.

It’s funny how things happen – and there are moments of intense clarity.  Obviously I’ll never forget the birth of my daughter (I was there 🙂 ) but I’ll also never forget the integrity of that stranger.  Streets & Sanitation. . . .  

Facials for Men

On By scottpetersenIn Facials for MenLeave a comment

I wouldn’t think of having a facial. I’m a man. Grrrrr. . . . Snort snort.   But I will confess. . .  . I had one a few years ago.

I’m still a bit in the dark as to how or why this happened but one Christmas Lauren and Donna presented me with an envelope.  Inside was a coupon for a facial.  I remember looking up and saying something like “I can’t have a facial.  I’m a man.”   Grrrrr. . . . Snort snort.  But the two of them must have thought that it would be fun to see my reaction.  Or maybe it was that my face was in serious need of help.  Either way, I agreed.  And had a facial.  

So I went into this spa place and I’m sitting there.  With a bunch of women.  Sure – I was self conscious.  But I’m a man . . . . Grrrrr . . . . Snort. . .  Anyway, I went in this darkened room and the woman “therapist” smilingly had me place my head over a steam thingee.  Then she put a towel over my head and told me to “be still.”  Hoookayyy. . . .   When she came back, she had me lay back and started squeezing heaven knows what out of my cheeks, nose and forehead.  Then she had me lay back and she wrapped my face in a towel that smelled of something unmanly.   After an hour or so, there was a freezing cold towel and I was done.   I puffed out my chest and strutted out of the room, through the waiting room and out the door.   And exhaled. 

I’m sure I’ll never have another facial though I can say without a blink “Yeah – I’ve had a facial.  Wasn’t bad. . . ”  Grrrrrr. . . . Snort snort. . . .      

Watermelon Salad

On By scottpetersenIn Bentwood Tavern, Rose Pistola, Watermelon saladLeave a comment

Over the last year or so, I have noticed that some of the more trendy restaurants are adding or even featuring seedless watermelon in salads. I have never been a watermelon fan since I swallowed a large black seed at a very early age — and thought this is the end. . . . That memory has stayed with me. Uncompromisingly. Until recently.

In late August, Donna and I spent a few days in New Buffalo, Michigan — hardly a place one would expect to have a Damascus Road conversion.  But it happened.   At the Bentwood Tavern.  We ordered the arugula and beet salad.  And I fell in love.  Consider — arugula, small beets (of different variety), pumpkin seeds and seedless watermelon.  Diced.  With a white balsamic and olive oil dressing.   I ate it.  I enjoyed it.  Truth be told — I could’ve made a meal of it. 

In Santa Barbara, CA last week, we had lunch at a popular restaurant where I ordered the watermelon salad.   My expectations rose then fell.  The meal was outstanding though the watermelon salad was a rectangular cut of watermelon on a bed of lettuce.  Little else.  A bit disappointing.   But we moved on to San Francisco and Rose Pistola where dinner started with a roasted beet salad with pomegranates, ricotta salata cheese, a 12 year aged Balsamic and light olive oil and  . . . watermelon.  I was actually tempted to order another beet and watermelon salad for dessert.  However the other member of my party insisted on something chocolate.   That we could share.  Chivalrous to the end, I capitulated.  Chocolate. . . . . I mean when you can have watermelon??          

The Coastal Highway

On By scottpetersenIn America's breadbasket, Oak Knoll Inn, The Coastal Highway2 Comments

Donna and I just returned from a week in California.   Two nights in Santa Barbara (the Canary Hotel).  One night at the beautiful Summerwood B&B in Paso Robles wine country.  A night in San Francisco (fabulous dinner at Rose Pistola).  And then Napa to lodge in a wonderful place called the Oak Knoll Inn — a 4 room B&B in Napa (a place to which we could easily return – and spend a few extra days).      

The drive from Santa Barbara to San Francisco along  the Coastal Highway is amazing in terms of agricultural activity.  As far as you can see — on both sides of the road for a hundred miles or more — literally everywhere —  there is a hum of activity. Trucks, tractors, workers, boxes, irrigation, cattle.   Everything moving (or moooooing).   California has 4% of the nation’s farms but is numero uno in cash farm receipts. California has 15% of the nation’s receipts for crops and 7% for livestock.  They can say what they will about the Midwest and the prairie states but California’s Central Coast is truly America’s breadbasket (and wine rack).

Fireworks – a Postscript

On By scottpetersenIn Fireworks, Fireworks - an editorial1 Comment

I have received some criticism for my posting about fireworks.  When it comes to firecrackers though, I continue to be bewildered by the fuss — and oppressive regulation.  I suffered a badly-burned finger once and had my ears ringing a few times but there were never any serious problems among my 10 year old pals.  And we did have fun. . . . .  

Let’s look at statistics.  According to a 2004 study, there were 9,600 fireworks injuries in the United States.   None were fatal and most occurred in the month surrounding the 4th of July.   http://www.pyrouniverse.com/stats.htm    This number of injuries is a drop in the proverbial bucket compared to other activities such as high school football where there were 500,000 injuries in the 2005-6 season including 16 fatalities (see http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2007/08/070815154430.htm ).  I have no kneecap in my right leg thanks to high school football. . . .

I try and put things like this into some logical perspective and cause/effect context.  Firecrackers for me were a hoot and generally safe.  The cherry bombs, Roman candles and such?   Okay — I agree they should be reserved for adults.  And probably limited to rural environs.   But please tell me this — would you rather allow your son to play high school football or light off some Black Cat (I still remember my favorite brand) firecrackers?  I know what I would choose. . . . .